


With Whom My Cells Cannot Conceal

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have to disassociate during the act. You have to separate your mind from your body, from your rational process of thought, or else you will be smacked with the realization that the thing inside you is something else, something that's not supposed to be there. Something that is not cells, but circuitry."</p>
<p>Jake reflects on the nature of his relationship with HAL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Whom My Cells Cannot Conceal

Usually during sex with Hal, there's a degree of separation between the two of you that transcends the physical, because physically you  _are_  joined and close and tense and physically nothing is wrong. Physically. 

The mental reservations that you have are usually secluded to the before and the after. The foreplay characterized through apprehensive morbidity; the comedown wrapped in sheets of guilt both esoteric and emetic. 

You have to disassociate during the act. You have to separate your mind from your body, from your rational process of thought, or else you will be smacked with the realization that the thing inside you is something else, something that's not supposed to  _be_  there. Something that is not cells, but circuitry. 

You wonder if Hal, in the after when the both of you are lying stained, thinks of the same things that always ravage and war in your brain. The thoughts that you bring you to the brink of your humanity, of the separation you've always held granted and dear. The valley of question yawns before you in the cavernous black cracks of the ceiling. 

What is the measure of biology? What are its defining factors? Does endoplasm engender empathy? Does programming preclude patience, pride, pathos?

Hal, he--he tastes organic, tastes like skin and sweat, yes even  _sweat_. But you know how simple it is to engineer the organic compounds that contribute to the illusion. Water, lactate, urea, a unique blend of trace minerals--it isn't much of a challenge. Parroting the process of thermoregulation was never the most pressing problem when it came to constructing HAL. 

It's laughably easy to fool your body, but--is fool really the apt word to use?

It's madness, all of it. You find you can't even justify it through an inexplicable attraction to the alien, to the unnerving. Because Hal, he moves like a human. Acts like a human. Tastes like a human. Fucks like a human. 

(He fucks too well to be what he is, in fact. It unnerves you. Who had taken the time to program into Hal such finesse of fornication? Where was the scientific merit there?)

By far the most painful thing that you must deal with comes when HAL requires tinkering. Because then you must trace the nigh invisible lines that form a seam behind his hairline. You must press and dig your nails into skin that suddenly feels plasticine, until you hear the inhuman click. You must remove HAL's face and see the ragged snaps of circuitry; see the lights that are pure red when no synthetic lenses are present to mute them to a softer amber. It's brings you to a rotten reality that you can't forget without the veil of moans and manufactured fluids. 

You're a prisoner within the bars of biology. You're incarcerated in cytoplasm. You're wrapped in polypeptide chains that hold you still and force you to confront the reality of what HAL is, the fact that he threatens the very constitution and security of your cells. 

You clip the face back on and once again you are greeted by warm eyes and Hal's quirking smile. 

_Damn it all. Damn it all to hell._


End file.
